Stubborn woman, he told himself.
The next morning Sarah felt considerably better despite the continued dizziness that forced her back to the couch. The headache had dwindled to a dull ache, which Rocky had insisted would worsen if she overexerted herself. Apparently, he'd felt it his duty to lecture her all through breakfast on the rash statement she'd made the night before about not following the doctor's exact orders.
Sarah had smiled to herself, toying with the notion that maybe Rocky was beginning to care for her. But when he disappeared to the barn after the breakfast cleanup, and then galloped away on his horse sometime later with no word as to where he was heading, she tossed the foolish thought out the window.
"Want me to read to you, Sarah?" Rachel asked at midmorning.
"I would like nothing more," Sarah said. Her head had started throbbing again, but she thought the diversion might do her good.
"Can I listen, too?" Seth asked from his place on the floor.
"Of course!" Sarah answered. He'd been lining up a collection of "soldiers"-the toy Sarah had given him, along with various sticks and rocks-on the floor and forcing them into numerous battles and shootouts. She decided a diversion would be good for him as well.
"What should I read?" asked Rachel. "I've already finished Little Lord Fauntleroy."
"Would you read from my Bible?"
Knowing what a good reader Rachel was, Sarah felt certain she could easily read any passage.
"Sure." Rachel reached for the Bible Sarah handed her and snuggled her back to the couch, stocking-covered feet stretched toward the fire. Seth crawled over beside her, taking a corner of Sarah's blanket to cover up with, and the three of them nestled in together.
After Rachel had read the first three chapters of Matthew with nary a blunder, she paused and looked at Sarah. "Seth's asleep," she whispered.
Sarah smiled. "You're a splendid reader, sweetie. You must have lulled him with your soft, clear voice."
Rachel blushed, evidently unaccustomed to compliments. "My mama gave me her Bible." Her voice was soft and timid. So seldom did Rachel ever mention her mother that Sarah decided to seize the moment.
"How wonderful. May I see it?"
Rachel walked to her bedroom and reappeared moments later with a medium-sized, brown, leather Bible, its cover tattered and torn, revealing hours of use. She placed it in Sarah's hands, and for a moment, Sarah simply massaged its rough and ragged edges.
She would give anything to have a treasure such as this from her own mother, but most of her legacy consisted of earthly properties and monetary assets-things that mattered little for eternity's sake, things that mattered little to Sarah.
Oh, her parents had been Christians, as Stephen's had been, but to say they'd been exceedingly committed would be an error. The Woodward family had attended Sunday services out of a sense of duty and pretension, not devotion, and they even donated financial support to all kinds of worthy causes. Rarely, however, except toward the end of her life, had Sarah's mother meditated on God's Word. Even then, it was because Sarah read to her from her own Bible. And she'd never once caught her father, a successful oil manufacturer, studying the Word.
Perhaps that explained why, after the deaths of both her parents, nothing remained to tie her to the Boston area. Most of the friends she'd made over the course of her life, save Nancy Belmont, weren't much interested in spiritual matters. If anything, they thought her a bit too zealous in her faith and convictions.
"Mama read her Bible every night," said Rachel, her voice a mere whisper.
Sarah lifted her head, knowing the importance of treading softly. "Your mother must have been a wonderful person. How lucky you are to have her Bible."
Rachel gave a slow nod. "She was fun-before she got sick."
Sarah rested a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Would you like to tell me about her?"
"I don't know." Rachel tipped her face upward and revealed a glittering of raw hurt in her sky-blue eyes. "Sometimes I cry if I think too hard about her."
"I know exactly what you mean," Sarah answered, turning on her side and pulling a bit of the blanket with her, taking care not to disturb Seth's slumber. The boy had stretched straight out in front of the couch, his bare feet protruding from the oversized blanket he shared with Sarah.
"'Cause your mama died too?" Rachel asked.
"Yes. I miss her terribly." Her mother had never been much for nurturing; her societal activities, fund-raising balls, art auctions to benefit the poor, and charity luncheons always took up a good share of her time. Yet, in spite of that, Sarah always knew she was loved.
Rachel seemed to think that over. "I miss my mama, too."
Sarah weighed her words carefully. "Maybe if you just tell me about some of the good times, you won't feel quite so sad. Can you remember a few?"
The child brightened. "We used to walk to the city square. There was a park there with swings and stuff. Mama would share the seesaw with me. She was too heavy for the other end, so she would push off the ground with her feet and then come back down, and it made me almost fly off my end." With that, Rachel actually giggled.
"Oh, I know what you mean. I once had a friend who was much bigger than I was. She loved to trap me up in the air by sitting on her end for long periods of time," Sarah said. Now they both laughed quietly. "Tell me more," Sarah urged.
"Well, once, when Seth was very little, Mama and me and Seth all went grasshopper huntin'."
"Grasshopper hunting? I thought you lived in the city."
"Oh, we never caught any, but Mama said we was huntin' for 'em anyways. We took a jar and everything. She said she used to hunt for 'em when she was little, so she thought we should practice the skill of it."
Sarah couldn't hold back her own giggle despite the nagging ache at the base of her skull. "I see! So it requires skill, does it?"
"Mama said so. She said you had to sneak up behind and make a surprise attack. They have good ears and will hear you comin' otherwise."
Sarah nodded. "And how are you supposed to catch them once you spot them?"
Rachel turned to face her. "With your hands, silly."
Sarah deliberately frowned, which made Rachel laugh. "Maybe you can show me how in the springtime," Sarah said, "provided you and Seth do the actual catching."
"Will you still be here in the spring?" Rachel asked, her eyes holding hope.
The question set Sarah back. Did the children expect her to desert them? "Of course I'll be here, sweetie. Now, tell me some more wonderful stories."
For the next several minutes, Rachel shared stories from her heart, stories of happy times that brought a smile to her face and an occasional giggle. Sarah resurrected a few of her own favorite memories to add to the collection, and in those quiet moments, the two began to build an alliance of sorts, the early stages of an enduring friendship.
Sometime later, while Sarah was slowly navigating around the house, tending to a few minor chores, and Seth and Rachel were playing with some toys in their room, she heard the sounds of approaching horses. When she glanced out the kitchen window, a smile found its way to her lips.
It seemed her husband had sent for his mother.
He didn't care what Sarah said-she needed help around the place, and he would not take no for an answer. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner, but bringing his mother over to stay for a couple of days seemed the perfect solution. It would mean he'd have to go back to bedding down in the barn, but it would be worth it to have peace of mind. He didn't trust his wife to get the rest she needed.
Fortunately, once Rocky had explained to his parents about Sarah's accident and the doctor's orders for bed rest, Frank Callahan had sanctioned the idea of lending his wife out for a few days. Had his father's health worsened, Rocky wouldn't have considered it, but as it was, the man looked as healthy and fit as ever. Having suffered one heart attack, he now had a heart condition that seemed to come and go, but Doc said he could outlive them all if he took care
of himself.
"Why don't I wait outside while you go talk to your wife?" Mary Callahan suggested once Rocky reined the team in and jumped off the rig. She sat atop the wagon seat, bundled in her winter gear. Rocky led the horses to the hitching post before he looked up at her.
"Thanks, Ma. This'll only take a few minutes. I'll tend to your horses later if you don't mind." Sparky, tethered to the back of the wagon, gave a loud snort, as if to remind Rocky of his whereabouts.
"Take as long as you need," Mary prompted. "If Sarah is as stubborn as you seem to think she is, she may not take to the idea of her mother-in-law intruding. That's why your pa and I have kept our distance. We wanted to give the two of you plenty of time to adjust to each other."
"Well, it wouldn't have mattered if you'd come by, Ma. It's not as if we're living the life of blissful newlyweds."
Mary lifted her brows until they disappeared under her wool hat. "I see. In other words, you don't share a bed."
Rocky blushed in spite of the cold. Conversations such as this didn't occur often between his mother and him. "No. The arrangement was that she would look after Seth and Rachel in exchange for a place to live. It's a marriage in name only, Ma."
"Ali, and you're happy with that?"
"Ma, let's save this conversation for another time."
The lights of her eyes shifted and then she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "I don't think we'll need to discuss it further. Things will iron themselves out, son, you'll see."
It would be senseless to argue the point, so Rocky merely gave a quick nod and headed for the house.
When he opened the door, Sarah was sitting on the sofa. She gave the appearance of having been sitting there for some time, but he knew otherwise. The kitchen looked considerably tidier than when he'd left it, and there was a steaming teakettle on the stove. Seth and Rachel seemed to be entertaining themselves in their room.
"Where's your mother?" she asked. The question threw him. So she had seen them come up the drive.
Prepared to do battle, he pulled back his shoulders and walked straight across the room to face her head-on. "I'll have no arguing on the matter, Sarah. It's clear you need some help around the place. You don't seem to agree with what Doc Randolph suggested as far as bed rest goes, and so I think my decision is a smart one.
"You don't need to worry about Ma intruding on your space, if that's your concern. And she certainly won't tell you how to manage the household chores. She will, however, be glad to do whatever you ask of her because she's concerned for your well-being.. just ...as...I am."
His sentence petered out toward the end because of the way her large, liquid eyes, more blue than green today, flashed in a familiar display of impatience. "I asked you a simple question," she said.
"Huh?"
"Where is your mother? Are you making her wait outside, just as you made the children sit outside at Winthrop's Dry Goods that first day I met you?"
Now he felt duly reprimanded. "It was-her idea. I wasn't, well, she wasn't sure how you would react to her-coming to stay-for a few days."
"For gracious' sake, Rocky, invite your mother inside." When all he could do was stare down at her, she quickly added, "Please." That's when he saw of glint of humor pass across her face.
"You don't mind, then?"
"Why should I mind? I will be thankful to have the company. I think it was a wonderful idea."
Relief flooded through his veins. "You do?"
Her smile broadened in approval. "Yes. Now, do I have to invite her in, or are you going to see to that?"
In the space of a second, his mood went from apprehensive to buoyant, heavy to lighthearted. Without further ado, he hurried to the door.
"Ma! Come on in!" he called. His mother looked up and quickly went about unbundling herself from her array of quilts.
"Shouldn't you go help her?" Sarah asked.
"Oh. Right."
Just as he headed out the door, he heard the excited cries of Seth and Rachel trailing behind. "Grandma? Is Grandma here? Yippee!"
randma, can I help?" Seth asked the next day, pulling a chair to kneel on up to the table. His grandmother had her flour-ridden hands in the center of a huge ball of bread dough, her palms and fists aptly kneading as she'd done a thousand times before.
"Of course you can help," Mary Callahan replied, tearing off a lump of dough for her grandson and pushing it to the side, her tone so chipper that Sarah was hard-pressed not to giggle.
Although her headache and dizziness had temporarily subsided, she'd been forced to rest, moving from the trusty old couch to a kitchen chair and then back to the couch when the throbbing returned and became too bothersome. She wished she could help, but she had relented when Mary insisted it was her pleasure to take over the duties.
So far, her mother-in-law had scrubbed the sink, shelves, stove, and countertop, complaining to her son when he made an appearance that he should think about replacing the roughhewn work surface in the kitchen. "Your bride could get slivers cleaning it."
He'd given Sarah a hangdog look before casting his mother a warning glance. "I know, Ma. Anything else?" Sarah stifled a giggle and Mary shrugged. "Well, if you want a list, I'm sure between Sarah and me we could easily come up with one."
Sarah had held her breath, wondering how Rocky would handle his mother's bold offer, but he seemed to take it in stride with a nod and a chuckle. "I've no doubt you could come up with a list all by yourself, Ma. Why bother Sarah with such trivial matters?"
"Well, it's her house, son. She should have a say in such things." It was certainly true that Sarah had considered inquiring about the need for a few interior improvements, but she hadn't intended to bring up the matter until they stood on firmer ground with each other.
To that, Rocky had clearly blushed. "Well then, I suppose we should leave the matter up to my wife."
"Grandma, what should I do with this?" asked Seth, glaring down at the section of dough Mary had doled out. Sarah came out of her reverie to watch the banter between grandmother and grandson.
Mary ceased with her work. "Did you wash those hands?"
Seth turned his palms faceup for her inspection. "I knew you would ask," he said with a gleam in his eye, as if he'd fooled her with his shrewdness.
"Hmm, clean as a whistle. All right then." She winked at Sarah, and Sarah winked back, delighted at the chance to observe the unfolding drama.
"Well then, you first must flour your hands.. .like this," she instructed, dropping a bit of flour onto his palms and rubbing them gently. "Then you take up your clump of dough and begin to play with it."
The lessons continued, with Seth mimicking his grandmother's every move until he had worked his doughy sphere into perfection.
About the time Mary's large loaf and Seth's smaller one, were ready for the oven, Rachel walked through the door, her rosy cheeks and wide smile evidence that she'd enjoyed playing by herself down by the creek at the edge of the property. Accustomed to tending her younger brother, she must have enjoyed the pleasant reprieve to have a few moments to herself without the responsibility of entertaining him. Not that anyone had ever forced her to care for him. She'd just assumed that task all by herself.
"Well, would you look at what the wind just blew in," Mary declared, all smiles for her granddaughter.
"I just made a loaf of bread, Rachel," Seth cried, his little chest puffed out with pride.
Rachel shed her winter gear, dutifully hanging up her coat, scarf, hat, and mittens, and placing her boots side by side in their assigned place. A smile had etched itself into her pretty, young face. Sarah reflected on the girl's subtle changes for good. From being somewhat slipshod and crabby, according to Rocky's observations, the child had seemingly grown to a new level of maturity. Had Sarah's influence and example rubbed off on her? She wanted to think that she was making a positive impact on both her and Seth.
If only Rocky would share her hopes for the children.
"What did you do with yourself,
child?" Mary Callahan asked, wiping her hands on her apron after arranging the loaf pans in the oven.
"I went looking for pretty stones by Hickman Creek."
Seth raised his head in interest. "Did you find some, Rachel?"
"A few," she answered, "but none to brag about."
"Where are they?" Seth inquired, his eyes big, as if he'd never heard of anything so intriguing as hunting for stones.
"I didn't keep any, silly. Next time, maybe I'll find some worth keepin'."
"Oh." Seth wore disappointment like a bright coat. "Can I go next time?"
She nodded at her brother then looked at her grandmother. "Can I help make supper since Seth helped make bread?"
"Gracious me! I've never had so much help." Mary's eyes glistened silver as she cast Sarah another smile. "Are they always this ready to lend a hand?"
"They've been very helpful," Sarah said, pulling herself up from the sofa and waiting for the dizziness to pass, "which is more than I can say for myself lately."
Mary studied her from across the room, pushing a flourcovered hand through her already white hair. "Now, you stay put on that sofa, Sarah Callahan."
Sarah shrugged. "But I feel so helpless."
"There is no reason for you to feel guilty for that. You've had a head injury and the doc says the best thing for you now is rest."
"That is all I've been doing," she mumbled.
Mary glanced down at both children. "You two go straighten up your rooms. I see a pile of books and a smattering of toys on the floor. I'll call you when it's time to start supper." When neither moved, she added, "Shoo! I want to talk to Sarah."
After they disappeared into their room, Mary untied and removed her apron, tossing it over a straight-back chair. Sarah slid over when Mary indicated that she was about to sit beside her.
The first thing she did was place a hand on Sarah's knee. With a gentle pat she said, "Now then, my son has asked me to take over the duties for a few days. Please be honest when I ask you if my presence in your home bothers you."
Sarah tipped her head to see into her mother-in-law's aged blue eyes, amazed by the compassion she read in them. "Absolutely not. I'm happy for the chance to get to know you. It's nice to know that I still have-a mother. It's just that, well, I'm afraid I'm shirking my duties as a housewife and caregiver. The children depend on me and they've had such sorrow."
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 13
